


Thrilling

by thecrownofthereveur



Series: Under Gotham's rainy sky [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:29:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrownofthereveur/pseuds/thecrownofthereveur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it happened, it happened quickly, unexpectedly. It was a Friday night, but Jim had been in his apartment since his shift had ended. Then someone knocked at the door. Jim sighed walking towards the door to open it. And there in the hallway, like in that other night some weeks ago, he found Oswald Cobblepot. Well dressed. Standing straight. Smiling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrilling

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the comments and all the kudos in the last part, hope you like this one too!
> 
> I fixed somethings with tenses, I hope it is more comprehensible now.

The next time Jim saw Cobblepot he felt a punch in his gut. It was just a sudden, strange sensation in his stomach that appeared at the view of the man beaten with blood in his face, sitting at the table besides Don Maroni. He seemed slightly scared, looking at Jim with the eyes of a man tired of being hit. ‘Jim, just tell the truth,’ he said, receiving a murderous look from Maroni, after that the man glanced at Jim again. He was eating with gusto and smiling despite the whole situation. It was easy what he was asking; Maroni just wanted Jim to tell him the story, how he had faked Oswald Cobblepot’s dead, how he had thrown him in the river for make all believe that he had killed him. Jim swallowed. There was something terrifying in been there, in the middle of a gangster’s restaurant and surrounded by his men.

Before Jim could respond, Oswald tried to speak again, making Maroni threaten him with put a lobster claw in his throat if he didn't remain in silence. Soon Maroni’s men took Oswald to the kitchen and Jim felt again that punch in the gut. The sudden need of running towards Oswald and set him free of those men´s hands leaved Jim perplexed for a moment. But he should had done it, he trough hours later, a good cop would had done it. But meanwhile, he just glared again at Maroni’s eyes. He told all the truth, avoiding telling details, not speaking about why he had let live that trembling, somehow pitiful man. It was not like Maroni would have cared about that.

Jim had leaved the restaurant as soon as possible, not wanting to remain a second more there. He left the place remembering Oswald battered face, saying a quiet _thank you_ to him. He didn't like the feeling that it produced to him.

***

Oswald was tapping his lap nervously. The fresh air of the night was entering to the car by the open window, and it was making him shiver. It was that, or the sensation of nervousness that in the last ten minutes had been spreading along his body, affecting his voice, his movements and manners. Maroni’s men where inside Falcone’s Casino. They were waiting for them in a near street with the car turned on. Maroni himself was seated in the back seat; Oswald could see his smiling face from the rearview mirror.

‘Are you scare, Penguin?’ he asked after a while. Oswald hated being called like that, _Penguin._ ‘Your voice is doing that shaky thing.’

Oswald laughed nervously. He didn’t wanted Maroni to think that he was afraid. But he certainly was. He would be finished if Maroni’s men didn't made it, he could very well die tonight. But for some reason, there while waiting in the car Oswald couldn’t stop thinking about Jim’s face that afternoon. He surely had been scared too, Oswald thought, but his expression, tough and decided had remained calm, glancing at him once in a while, dropping his eyes in the corners slightly. Oswald would like to be like that; show conviction, no fear. But it seemed like fear was one of Oswald’s characteristics. But that was okay, he thought sometimes, he fought against fear constantly. He liked to think that that was brave too.

Finally, he saw Maroni’s men running down the street, getting into the car. He exhaled, relieved, leaning against his sit immediately with his eyes open. The car started to move quickly, getting them out of Falcone’s territory. Oswald was feeling strange, the adrenaline was running speedily in his body, his heart was beating fast; the fear inside him was spreading in his body like in small spasms. It was thrilling.

Then Oswald thought again about Jim’s calm face, looking at him from the other side of the table. He readjusted himself in the seat, looking at Gotham’s luminous cartels, the cars moving in the street, the people, still experiencing this foreign, stimulating sensation in his body. He wanted to see Jim.

***

Jim knew about attraction, it wasn’t a foreign concept to him. He knew when he was feeling attracted to someone else and when it was just a mild interest. Maybe that was why all this was so difficult. Jim was seated in his desk, leaning in his chair; in front of him there was a bunch of files from new cases and he didn’t even knew how to start. In a normal situation he would have classified them, starting from the most urgent ones. But today his head was elsewhere, and he was feeling incapable of concentrate in his job.

‘Hey,’ Harvey said sitting in his own chair. He seemed to have enjoyed his mourning coffee; he was usually grumpy at this hour, ‘need some help?’ he asked.

Jim smiled politely.

‘No, thank you,’ he said, toying with a pen he had took from his desk.

Harvey smiled back slightly, starting to check some of the files in his own desk. Maybe he was trying to be nice, Jim thought. He was one of the few who knew that Barbara had left him. But Jim didn’t wanted pity, less if it was from Harvey. He just wanted to put his things together, he wanted to feel like he was doing it right again. Right now, maybe for the city, maybe for Barbara, he was feeling lost. Jim felt his phone buzzing in his pocket and almost jumped from his seat. He took his phone and unlocked it. He had one new message. He opened it hopping it was from Barbara; she hadn’t called him or spoken to him since she had left. But it wasn’t from her.

It was from Cobblepot.

Jim felt his body hair bristling, he was suddenly very cold. He took a brief moment before reading it, thinking in what it could be. When he did, he was both baffled and surprised.

‘ _You should check your desk drawer_.’

Jim glanced over his shoulder, like if he was prepared to find Oswald Cobblepot himself stood there in the station, showing his yellow teeth with a smile. He wasn´t, obviously. He glanced at his phone again, reading the message. He frowned confused and looked to his drawer desk. What could Oswald have put there?

When he opened it, Jim just found a letter, with something written in dark blue marker. ‘ _Thank you!_ ’ with an exclamation mark at the end. He frowned even more. Should he find that funny? Inside the letter there wasn’t a possibly murder weapon or a diminutive bomb like Jim had thought. There was just a wristwatch – an expensive wristwatch, with a classic style. Jim took it from one of the straps, looking at it with disbelief.

***

Oswald entered to the apartment with quiet steps. It was late at night and he didn’t wanted to wake up his mother. Right now he didn’t wanted to see her. He had stayed until late at the restaurant, keeping an eye on Maroni’s men while they counted the money that they had stoled from Falcone’s casino. It seemed like Maroni was starting to trust him further responsibilities and it wasn’t because of coincidence. Maroni was sure that sooner or latter Oswald would be a great weapon towards Fish Money; and he wasn’t so far from the truth really. Oswald knew things, after all. He made his way, limping, towards his bedroom; it was a small room, classical like the entire apartment. Oswald didn’t like it very much; sometimes he found himself no wanting to come home to rest inside those walls. But it was the closest thing to home he had ever had.

Oswald seated in his bed, taking off his shoes and suit. Slowly, he started to unbutton his shirt and pants until he was in underwear. He put on a pajama and he climbed to his bed, under the covers, to rest. At this hour Jim would have already found his present and for some reason he was excited because of it. He really couldn’t say why.

***

Jim headed to the bathroom as soon as he saw the hour in the nightstand watch. It was late. It was very late. His shift had begun an hour ago and surely Harvey wasn’t very happy. He was probably seated in the police car, making grumpy comments about him. Jim washed his face in the bathroom mirror, checking if he needed a new shave. Normally he like to be clean shaved. He brushed his teeth as fast as he could and he go back to his room to change his clothes. When he was leaving, after he took the keys from the bowl, he glanced at the watch he had found in Cobblepot’s letter. He had leaved it there yesterday, not wanting it to be seen by the cops in the police station. He took it, observing it for a second before put it in his sleeve.

It was a good watch, after all.

***

The first time it happened, it happened quickly, unexpectedly. It was a Friday night, but Jim had been in his apartment since his shift had ended. Harvey had invited him for some drinks early but Jim had rejected. He wasn’t in the mood. He was feeling tired, maybe stressed because of the last weeks. He wanted to come home, maybe drink a glass of his favorite whiskey and go to sleep until the next day. He wasn't worried about become an alcoholic, he didn't think he could, watching Harvey drink like he usually did. Jim was just about to open the bottle when someone knocked at the door. He sighed, he really didn’t wanted to open. He wanted to sit there in the sofa and drink his whiskey in peace. Still, he leaved the bottle in the table and rolling up his sleeves he walked towards the door to open it. There in the hallway, like in that other night some weeks ago, he found Oswald Cobblepot. Well dressed. Standing straight. Smiling. ‘Good night, Jim’ he said politely, making a small gesture with his head. Jim thought he should had said something, but he was startled watching Oswald’s split lip, his still slightly black eye from the beat Maroni had gave him. At Jim’s intense look, Cobblepot dropped his smile slowly. Then, Jim remembered the impotence he had felt at Maroni’s restaurant, watching those men beat Oswald, taking him to kitchen; the sudden need he had felt for walk towards them and punch them. How he didn’t do it, how he stayed there, watching Maroni in silence.

Jim knew about attraction, he really did. It was just that his attraction towards this particular man was frightening to him. 

But right now, after long days of work, of feeling stressed and without Barbara, that didn't mattered so much. 

Suddenly, things started to be a little difficult to process. Jim leaned closer, grabbing Oswald by his suit jacket and closing the door behind them. Oswald seemed terrified for second; like when he knew that someone was going to hit him. He felt his back hitting the door, his wrist been taken by Jim’s hands. It was inevitable after all.

Then Jim kissed him. H kissed him fast, putting his head against the door, pressing Oswald against him.

And Oswald kissed him back.

The sensation he felt some days ago in Maroni’s car, the adrenaline in his body, his heart beating fast, something like fear and excitation spreading in his body like in small spasms. He felt it again there, pressed by Jim’s body against the door, with one of Jim’s hands in his neck and the other one in his ribs, his knee making his path between Oswald’s legs. It was stimulating, he thought. It was _thrilling_.

‘You still think that we are friends?’ Jim asked then, his voice sounding rough while speaking at Oswald's ear.

Cobblepot didn’t knew who to respond to that.

This was not just about attraction, Jim knew. It had something else under it. He was angry. He was angry with Barbara for leave him. He was angry because she couldn’t understand all what Gotham’s was. She couldn’t understand that Jim wanted to protect her, even if it was by not telling her the whole truth. He was angry because she couldn’t understand him.

Jim pressed himself harder against Oswald, panting, slightly moving his hips. He looked at him, his pale face, his clear eyes, and Oswald looked back at him. Why was this man, after all, so constant in his dreams the last weeks?

They moved to the sofa quickly, gasping, enjoying that mildly overwhelming sensation trapped in their bodies. The fear was mixed with excitement, with the strange sensation of be doing something wrong. Jim exhaled letting Oswald fall on top of him, breathing heavily. He watched how the man’s ribs moved up and down faster than before, and he ran a hand for Oswald’s thigh, squeezing. Then he let himself fell in the cushions, relaxing.

***

When they woke up it was still dark. It was near four o’clock, or so it seemed by the sky. They opened their eyes and slowly they looked at each other. They were almost naked, with their pants on their knees and their underwear slightly showing pubic hair. Oswald has lying on top of Jim, feeling his breathing. When their past actions came to them, they stood up in the sofa like in slow motion, separating from each other. They looked to the floor, the window, the ceiling, everywhere but to each other. They dressed awkwardly.

Jim stood up, walking towards the kitchen and grabbing his phone. He didn't had any new messages. Then, not knowing what else to say he asked, ‘you want something to eat?’

Cobblepot looked at him almost startled by the idea. ‘No, Jim. Thank you’ he said in a low voice, ‘I should probably leave.’

Jim nodded, almost relieved. He accompanied Oswald towards the door, observing his jacket suit on top of his badly buttoned shirt, his hair disordered and his black shoes being hold in his hands while walking to the hallway. He turned around and Jim saw the uncertainty in his face, in his lips parted. ‘Goodbye, James’ he said avoiding his glance and making his path towards the elevator.

Jim watched him disappear from the corridor.

‘Goodbye,’ he said putting his lips in a tight line, even when he knew Oswald could not longer hear him. He leaned against the wall frustrated before closing the door whispering _fuck_. What the hell he had done?


End file.
